Sit Back and Laugh for a Bit
by thtshrtchic
Summary: Have you ever thought that fanfiction takes itself too seriously sometimes? Well, here is your reprieve. Drabbles about the different categories of fanfiction, and what it would be like if one or most of the characters actually thought like normal people (Includes Tom Riddle TR, Voldemort LV, Snape SS, James JP, Sirius SB, Dumbledore AD, etc.)


"Ah, Harry my boy! What can I do for you?"

Harry Potter stared at the portrait of the late Headmaster Dumbledore. The wizened old man was sucking on a lemon drop, looking quite pleased to have a visitor.

It was the end. Lord Voldemort had finally decided to attack Hogwarts, and they were not prepared. They would all be dead by nightfall. He had desperately run up to the former Headmaster's office (McGonagall couldn't bear taking it over), praying to any god there was that he had left one more clue. His eyes scanned the room, looking for anything that may point him to the key to victory.

Aha! There was a green handkerchief, the same shade of his mother's eyes, resting upon the desk that was the same color of his father's hair. It must be hidden in one of the drawers.

"Er, Harry? What are you looking for?" asked Dumbledore nervously, as Harry tore through the drawers, making his way to the bottom drawer. "There's really nothing in there that you would find interesting."

Harry ignored him. It was just another of the Headmaster's tests. The Headmaster's protests became increasingly more panicked as he searched through the bottom. He found a red folder, the same shade of red as his scar, and opened it.

"HARRY! PUT THAT DOWN BOY!" Dumbledore all but screamed.

Inside was an envelope with Dumbledore's name on it, as well as a time turner.

"A time turner?" Harry questioned.

"Yes, yes, take it if you will, but I must insist that you put that back immediately!" Dumbledore shrieked.

Of course, Harry thought. It was all so clear now. Dumbledore had been showing him the memories of Tom Riddle, of his beginnings… it wasn't just the Horcruxes that Dumbledore had been trying to show him, but rather to get him thinking about the past. He was to go back and stop Tom Riddle before he gained power. The Headmaster had planned this in advance, and written a letter to his past self explaining that Harry must be allowed in as a student. Brilliant.

"HARRY! WHY ARE YOU TAKING THAT ENVELOPE WITH YOU? GET BACK HERE!"

He made his way to the stairs. It wouldn't do to appear in the Headmaster's office in 1948. He should go into the hallway so that he could find Dumbledore once he arrived. Ignoring the portraits cries (really, you'd think that he didn't want Harry to do this) he turned the time turner several times.

The rush around him was unbelievable. It was much crazier than his previous trip. Images flashed around him, Dumbledore setting his password to "Bertie Bott's", the Weasley Twins being marched up the stairs in front of an angry McGonagall, a young Oliver Wood banging on the gargoyle demanding that the pitch be opened for midnight practice, was that Snape showing his underwear again? The images went faster and faster, until he finally landed on the ground with a thud.

* * *

Professor Albus Dumbledore was on his way to Headmaster Dippet's office to confirm the list of new first years that would be sorted tomorrow.

THUD. Dumbledore looked at the figure that had just landed in front of him with no small amount of surprise. It appeared to be a boy with uncommonly messy hair and an hourglass necklace around his neck. How very strange.

"Pr-professor?" the boy groaned. "Professor Dumbledore? I have a letter for you." He wobbily stood up and handed a red envelope to him. What an odd way to replace an owl, Dumbledore thought humorously.

His amusement quickly vanished as he opened the envelope and discovered the contents. These, these were- "Boy! Where did you find this?" Dumbledore blustered out through an extremely red face.

The envelope did not contain a letter. It contained a number of pictures. Pictures that he had exchanged with Gellert so long ago… How did this boy manage to get ahold of them? He was sure that neither Gellert nor himself would be careless of the immortalized images of their, er, private activities.

The boy smiled knowingly. "So you understand that I must be enrolled in Slytherin, sixth year," the boy stated.

That, that little shit! He was blackmailing him! Normally he wouldn't stand for this, but he couldn't allow the world to know about his former involvement with the Dark Lord. No doubt the boy had copies elsewhere, just waiting to be sent to the Daily Prophet if he didn't comply. "Yes," the Professor ground out.

"Good!" the boy said brightly. "Now where should I sleep tonight? I really don't feel like taking the train."

"You may sleep in the Slytherin dormitory," Dumbledore told him through clenched teeth. "And what name should I put on the roster?"

"Hmm.. You may call me Harry Evans. Will that be all?"

"Yes." This was a disaster. Though he had to wonder, why didn't the boy just apply like transfer students normally did? Why did he feel that he had to blackmail the Deputy Headmaster with pornography?

* * *

Tom Riddle yawned. The first years' sorting was over, and now they were just waiting for Professor Dippet to finish his long-winded speech.

"And as one last announcement, we have a new transfer student who will be entering into sixth year. Please welcome Mr. Harry Evans into Slytherin!"

Ah, another transfer student. They tended to get one or two a year, though they were usually sorted in front of the school after the first years. Perhaps the boy had stage fright.

The feast commenced as usual, and Tom paid no more attention to the new kid. Little did he know that those Killing Curse eyes were watching his every move. After the feast, the new kid was held back by Professor Dumbledore to discuss some of the details of his transfer, and Tom sleepily made his way to the Slytherin Dorms. It was time for an early night, Tom thought as he crawled into bed. Minutes later, he and his roommates were snoring away soundly.

* * *

Harry arose from his restless slumber at 4 o'clock in the morning. How could he sleep, knowing that he was well within Lord Voldemort's reach? He was no longer protected by the walls of Hogwarts; the castle welcomed the teenage Dark Lord as it did him. Besides, he needed to keep an eye out for Riddle to try and keep track of his dark activities. He had attempted to wait up for him, hiding behind a statue across from the entrance to the common room, but had grudgingly given up at around one AM when a patrolling Dumbledore had inquired as to whether he would like to go to sleep or spend the next night in detention with him.

Dumbledore had walked away muttering something about a deranged, lunatic, blackmailing boy. Clearly he was hinting that it was useless to wait up for Tom Riddle; the boy was just too clever to be caught. He had walked into the room, seeing that the bed with Riddle's trunk next to it had the curtains drawn with the sound of light snoring coming from it. Obviously it was a ruse to fool anyone who might wonder where Riddle was in the night, but he didn't draw back the curtains because there were certainly dark curses and wards to decapitate the intruder and warn Riddle that someone was snooping through his belongings.

But no matter. This morning Riddle would have no choice but to face him. He showered then made his way to the Great Hall at 5:30 sharp. Surely Tom Riddle was an early riser.

* * *

Around 9 AM, Tom Riddle smiled at his fellow Slytherins as he entered the Great Hall for breakfast. It was the first day of school, and he was genuinely pleased to be back at Hogwarts. As he seated himself next to Lestrange, he noticed Professor Slughorn waving merrily at him from the staff table. While he would love to be able to ignore the rather annoying man and his unhealthy exuberance, he was looking to be the Head Boy next year, which required being on good terms with all of the professors. As such he smiled and nodded back at him. Now, should he have a bagel or eggs and hash browns today?

Deciding upon eggs, he noticed that the salt was just out of his reach. "Evans, wasn't it? Would you mind passing me the salt?" he politely asked as he glanced at who was across from him.

* * *

Harry had made sure to wave over the boy who had introduced himself as Raleigh Lestrange. Him and his friend Avery were future member of Voldemort's Inner Circle, so Riddle would sit by them.

Riddle finally entered the hall. He gave a fake smile that clearly said, "I will play nice for now. None of these pathetic sheep have any idea what is in store for them…" He nodded at the Head Table, playing the perfect actor in the sick little game he had created.

He sat down at the table, and appeared to debate on what he should have for his breakfast like a normal human. It was all a show.

Their eyes met. It was a split second glance to anyone else, but to them it spoke volumes.

"I see you," Tom's stunning blue eyes told him. "I know there's something more to you. And I will find out your deepest secrets, your heart's desire, everything that is you. In time…"

* * *

There was a rather long pause. Tom stared at the transfer student, waiting an uncomfortable amount of time for him to reply. Was he perhaps deaf?

* * *

Lord Voldemort had asked him to pass the salt. In that little innocuous question, he had issued a challenge. A challenge that he, Harry, wasn't going to back down from. He was going to play Riddle's twisted mind games, and he was going to beat him. But where should they meet?

Ah. Of course. He wouldn't want to meet in the castle right under the nose of Albus Dumbledore. They would have to meet in the Forbidden Forest. "Tonight," he said determinedly. He gave Riddle a meaningful look, then left the table. He had to prepare.

* * *

"Tonight," intoned the odd boy quite suddenly. Evans rose from the table and gave him a slightly constipated look, before striding out the front door.

Stunned, Tom looked to Lestrange, who was staring at the spot Evans had just vacated looking quite taken aback. "I guess I'll just get you the salt Tom..."

"Thank you, Lestrange. I'm certainly not going to wait until tonight to salt my eggs," stated Tom rather dryly. What a weird kid.


End file.
